Love Hurts
by Wildnight
Summary: This is an epilogue for the episode 'Love Kills' in which Lila, an old flame of Jim's, is supposed to kill Jim but ends up taking the bullet meant for Jim in the end. This is after Jim walks away from the scene and Blair is left wondering what to do. Th


Jim shrugged away from my touch as I came up behind him. He got to his feet and walked away. I wanted to follow him, but I knew better. He'd chew me out if I followed him. Simon and I looked down at Lila, dead. I knew Jim had a history with her, but he didn't tell me much about it.

I stay with Simon as the crime scene is processed and the bodies are taken to the morgue. I really expected Jim to come back. But he hasn't yet. I turn to Simon.

"What should I do, Simon? Should I go after him?"

"I think Jim just needs some time alone. After all, he had been involved with the woman. He doesn't need interference right now or to have you bug him about it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. It's a delicate situation. That she would put herself in the line of fire to save Jim. I can just imagine how Jim feels. I'll take Jim's truck home to the loft and hope he comes home later."

"He's a grown man, Sandburg. He'll be fine."

"I hope you're right, Simon. I'll see you later."

I go over to Jim's truck and get inside the driver's side. Luckily, I had the keys still. I start to go back to the loft. I take the side streets, looking for Jim, wondering where he has gone off to. I understand why he wants to go off alone. Even though he didn't really love her, he thought he did, at least for a while. And it hurt to see her killed right in front of his eyes. That it all had to end so tragically.

I drive around for some time, still looking for Jim. It's dark out when I pull into the parking lot beside the apartment building. I walk inside the building, grabbing the mail in the box there. I take the elevator up to the third floor, walking down the hallway to #307. I wish I had sentinel hearing to know whether Jim was home. I unlock the door and walk into a dark loft. I turn on the light by the door. I don't see Jim anywhere downstairs. I walk around the downstairs area, noting Jim is nowhere in sight. I venture up the stairs to Jim's bedroom, but there is no one up here either. Jim hasn't come home yet. It wouldn't surprise me if he's in a bar somewhere getting drunk. It would probably fit his mood. I make myself tea and decide to wait.

I wake up to the sun peeking in through the blinds on the balcony windows. I hear a noise and turn to see Jim standing in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee.

"You okay, Jim?" He doesn't look like he's drunk.

"I'm fine, Chief. I didn't expect to see you sleeping on the couch at 4:30 in the morning."

His voice is soft and I can hear slight emotion as he speaks.

"I was worried about you, Jim. Worry is not exclusive to you."

"Thank you for the concern."

"I'm sorry she died." I have to tell him that.

"She sacrificed herself for me. She was supposed to kill me. When she couldn't, she knew she'd be killed. She made herself a target. There wasn't anything I could…"

Jim turns away from me. He never likes to appear vulnerable. I understand the feeling. Then Jim continues to talk, even softer than before.

"It never would have worked. She lied from the beginning. Of whom she really was. In Bali. I thought it was something else. I was a fool and a dope."

I don't know what to say or if I should say anything. How do you tell your best friend that this happens to every man? Not that your girl friend ends up a murderer and then dies, but that they all tell lies? It's a hard reality, one I'm sure Jim is aware of, but it hurts anyway.

I get up and walk over to where Jim is standing and pat him on the back. He only nods at me. No words are necessary between us. Jim goes upstairs to get dressed and I watch him. Knowing he'll get over this, but it will always remain in his heart. We have both loved and lost, but I think Jim has lost more than I have. Not that it's a contest between us, but we have more in common than I ever thought possible.

If Jim wants to talk more about this, I'll listen. He has, on occasion, talked to me about things. I won't judge and I won't comment.

I watch Jim as he comes back downstairs, gets his gun and badge and goes over to the door to leave for the day. He turns back to me, the sadness still evident in his eyes.

"Thank you for being here, Chief."

He leaves then and I whisper after him, knowing he can hear me.

"I'll always be here, Jim."


End file.
